


Dichotomy

by princesskay



Category: Smallville
Genre: AU, F/M, Porn with some plot, Potential non-con, Sub/Dom undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the alternate universe of Season 10, Clark Luthor takes Tess to his bedroom to claim his prize</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dichotomy

I never wanted this. I never wanted to be one of them.   
Tess Mercer examined herself in the mirror, her wide blue eyes, the paleness of her cheeks, the tremble in her hands. She disdained the weak woman staring back at her, but it was not the thing she feared the most. She had never thought that she would feel this way. . . Scared of Clark Kent. No, more like petrified. . . Because it wasn't really Clark Kent. This Clark's name was followed by Luthor. . . Her own surname. In another world, another reality, he was a brother to her. And he wanted her. He wanted her with a fierce passion she might have admired if it hadn't been coming from such a dangerous individual. This wasn't the Clark she knew. This Clark was raised by Lionel Luthor, brought up under the man's strict rule just like Lex had been. He knew nothing of the simple, honest and compassionate life her own version of the man had lived.   
Tess felt the harsh sting of tears in her eyes. Where was the real Clark Kent when she needed him? They hadn't always been on the best of terms, but he had never let her fall too such a great danger as this. Damn, she could really use his superhuman abilities right now!  
She drew in a deep breath as she heard the footsteps in the hall. He was coming for her.   
The idea struck fear deep in her heart. The thought to run anywhere, any way rushed to the front of her mind. Her eyes raced about the room, but there was no way out. He had put her in here after their strained dinner at the Ace of Clubs. He had said he would come for her with a delighted glint in his eye, as if seeing her reaction to his warning pleasured him just as much as the idea of getting her in bed.   
Tess ran to the window anyways. She grabbed the knobs, pushing hard, but they were locked fast. He had made her room into a prison.   
Tess forced herself to calm down, refusing to let the fright of the situation scare her into hyperventilation. Her breathing evened out and she leaned against the wall, her eyes skating to the door. The handle was turning. She closed her eyes, took one last, long calming breath. Her eyes snapped open. . . . Blue-green eyes stared into hers, inches away. She gasped, jumping away from him, her back hitting the wall. He smirked, pleased by her reaction, “I told you, Tess. . .” He stepped closer, trapping her between his body and the wall. She lifted her chin, trying to keep a strong facade, “I told you I would come for you.”   
“What happened to your plan to take over Clark Kent's life? Where are you priorities?” She questioned, her voice surprisingly steady.   
“Right in front of me.” He murmured, dipping his head down to let his lips brush her cheekbone. She turned her head away, putting her hands against his solid chest. The feel of firm muscle like a granite wall beneath her palms disintegrated her confidence even further. She was no match for him.  
He reached up and grabbed her wrists, and in one fluid motion pinned them to the wall behind her. Without hesitation, he forced his lips over hers, his mouth passionate and hungry. She squirmed, attempting to disconnect her lips from his. But, just like the last time he had kissed her she was tempted to let him have his way with her. She had once been attracted to such men, so passionate they were almost violent, before she had begun to use them to her benefit. Suddenly, this twisted version of Clark had walked into her life, nearly reducing her to that same young woman. She liked to be in bed with a man that knew what he wanted when he wanted it. . .She didn't have to wait for this Clark to make up his mind. She didn't have to wait for him to see that she wanted him. He wanted her. . . . Despite the fact that he was dangerous, he was desirable.   
The pressure of Clark's lips lifted, and he gloated, “What happened, Tess? I thought you were fighting me.” He let go of her wrists, one hand taking her behind the neck, the other reaching down grip one side of the purple dress. Her body seized as he pulled it to the side, letting one breast free of the cloth. She was immediately horrified by the fact that she had considered allowing him to do this willingly. She fought the desire to actually attempt to physically attack him in order to get away. She wouldn't have a chance. She had to rely on her instincts and intuition to get out of this.   
“Fight you? Me?” She arched a brow, “You think I'm stupid enough to attempt that?”  
“Weeeell,” He tilted his head to the side, blatantly staring at her naked breast. She bit back another gasp when he reached up and caught it in his palm, squeezing none-too-gently, “I was kind of expecting to get a little fire out of you.”   
She stared boldly into his eyes, trying to ignore the feel of his hand fondling her breast, “Is that what you want?”  
“Mmm.” He leaned forward to kiss her again, but she retaliated, biting at his lips. She caught his lower lip between her teeth, scraping as hard as she could. He chuckled, allowing her to keep his lip in her possession as he reached behind her to find the zipper of the dress. She stepped back, trapping his hand against the wall.   
For a moment, they simply glared at each other. Then, with a jerk of his head, he pulled his lip out of her grip and grabbed her around the neck. Before she could react, she was midair. For a single, terrifying moment, she couldn't breath. His hand was tight around her throat, the panic not allowing her to draw in even a small breath around his grip. The thought that he might kill her crossed her mind, but she refused to dwell on it. . . He needed her help too much. . . .right?   
He slammed her back down on the bed, crawling on after her. Straddling her waist, he grabbed the deep neckline of the dress and pulled it either way. The cloth ripped loudly, falling open and leaving her completely exposed. He pulled the shredded cloth from beneath her, gripping it in his upraised fist, “This dress has served its purpose.” He said, as he towered over her, “And now, you will serve mine.” He tossed the dress away, shrugging out of his jacket. She looked over either side of the bed, searching for a way out, but the only way was to fight. She looked up at his crotch, finely displayed in front of her face, from between his parted legs. She swallowed hard, as she considered attempting to injure him in the most well-known way ever. Would it even work? The rest of him seemed to be made of steel.   
He had his shirt unbuttoned, his chest exposed for her viewing when she began to open the front of his pants. He looked down quickly, surprised by her response. He watched her with a mixture of delight and suspicion as she pulled the zipper down, and scraped the pants down, beneath his – she had to admit this – nice ass. His cock jutted beneath the cloth of his boxers, already excited. She held his gaze as she took him in her palm, feeling the blood throb through him, hardening him even further with each second that passed.   
Before she could decide that it was too risky, she lifted the other hand, took him with both of her hands and twisted. A hint of pain crossed his face, and he grabbed her hands, prying them away from him. His body swayed atop her for a moment, but in seconds, he had her arms pinned above her head again. He gave her rough shake, his eyes flashing. He bent over and put his mouth next to her ear, whispering harshly, “What do you think you're doing, Tess? I don't break that easily.”   
“I'm sorry!” She cried, writhing as he squeezed her wrists nearly hard enough to break the bones, “Please, I didn't mean it!”   
“I'm sure.” He replied, sourly, as his mouth slid down. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a tear slide from the corner of one.   
“Please. . .” She whimpered.   
He ignored her, his mouth meeting the rise of one breast. He nipped at the tender flesh as his mouth crested the peak. She twitched, but made herself lie still. Jerking around beneath him would only make this worse. She had to find an advantage.   
His lips parted, taking in her breast, immediately sucking in deeply. She bit down on her lip, hating the spike of pleasure that spiraled in her lower stomach. She could already feel heat between her legs, a response she had learned long ago to control. What was wrong with her?   
He turned his head to one side, his mouth working over the tip of her breast like a long, forbidden kiss. She took in a shaky breath, her eyes slowly moving down to watch him. She watched, her mouth halfway open, as his full lips created a sexual dance over the pebbled nipple. Her defenses came crashing down as she felt liquid heat rush to her core. Nothing – not even her own mind – could stop the desire that now took reign over her emotions.   
His mouth moved to the other breast, his lips performing the same hypnotizing, sexually exciting ministrations as before. She pushed hips up against his, testing the stormy waters. He paused for a moment, but when he continued it was so short that it seemed he hadn't stopped at all. He nudged against her, his cock coming to rest against her center.   
She closed her eyes, the pleasure sinking into her like poison. She wanted this, she had to admit it. . .   
Her eyes sprang open again when he gently bit at her nipple. It was a teasing motion that made her heart pump even faster. She moaned softly, urging him on. He slid back to the other for a moment, his teeth nipping just a little harder. She pushed against him more desperately, “Please. . .” This time, the word came out on a much different note. His breath washed back over the first aching nipple, just before his teeth claimed it once more. She tried to seal her lips in order to squelch the yelp that rose in her throat, but her reaction wasn't fast enough. The cry left her lips, her body bucking against him. He flexed his fingers around her wrists, holding her easily beneath him as he bit harder and harder until she felt tears in her eyes. She was nearly thrashing by this point, the pain and pleasure battling for her attention. God, it hurt. . .It hurt, but at the same time. . .  
“Clark, please!” She cried, hoarsely as he moved one to the other his teeth scraping just as before.   
He nipped her several more forceful times before lifting his head, “You will obey me, Tess,” he said, slamming his point home.   
She bit her lip to keep it from quivering, swallowing back rebellion and nodding fearfully.   
He smiled with cold cynicism, “Where I come from a woman doesn't attempt to hurt me. . . My bitches know better.”   
She glared at him, offended by the status he had suddenly dropped her to. So all she was was one of his bitches?  
“But,” He quickly added, “you are more than that to me. . .” Then thoughtfully, “So I forgive you.”  
He kept her arms stretched above her, unwilling to relinquish his upperhand, although she doubted it wouldn't take much for him to regain, no matter what she did. He pulled his pants the rest of the way off, leaving him scarcely dressed in skin-tight, black spandex. She could clearly see the condition of his arousal, barely held back by the flimsy cloth. He let her look for a moment before he stripped of that scrap of cloth as well. He sprang free of the stretchy material, thick and long. He came to rest on her stomach, like an iron rod pressing into her. She willed herself not to writhe with the deep want that was eating her up. God, she felt weak. . . so weak. He nearly drew blood with his sharp teeth, and still she felt this dark desire. . . What had happened to her?   
Smiling with triumph, he dismounted her and turned her on her stomach. Her mind rebelled against the subservient position, but she didn't have time to argue. He made her get on her hands and knees in front of him, his hands persuading her resistant body into compliance. He molded his hand over one hip and reached between her legs. She clamped her jaw shut as she felt his fingers find her wet feminine lips. She wanted to scream as they immediately delved into her tight, hot passage, but she kept her mouth firmly shut. She had to make him think she was doing this out of duty. That sentiment was difficult to uphold when his fingers were inserted deep in her well of desire, probing her to the point of aching arousal. She was so tight around his fingers she felt as if she would explode at any moment, feel her body split with the pleasure.   
“God. . .” She rasped, staring down at the sheets, “Clark. . .Oh, God. . .”   
“Don't sound so unhappy with yourself, Tess.” He murmured, leaning down to kiss the smooth ridge of each shoulder blade, then the curving dip of her spine. His lips trailed downward until his breath swirled warmly over her rounded buttocks, then into the cleft between them. Her whole body quivered, pleasure hinting low in her stomach. He continued to massage her, long, deep strokes that made her body cry for release. She pushed her hips back against his hand, nearly desperate to feel the pleasure shake her.   
“Good. . .” He praised, softly, his mouth brushing over the slope of one buttock.   
“Clark. . .” She moaned, squeezing her eyes shut.   
His teeth scraped over the flesh, almost too gently for her to even feel it. It teased her senses, heating the fire at her center even hotter. She pressed her forehead against the mattress, groaning in frustration and desire between clenched teeth. She wanted this so badly, and yet she hated herself for enjoying. It was so close to the point of torture, that the pleasure it also possessed was nearly overpowering. The line between the two was so blurred, she could barely discern exactly what it was she felt about this encounter. Could she hate him any more than she loved him in this moment?   
The pressure of his hand slowly lifted, until his fingertips were just teasing the tender, inflamed bud of flesh, surrounded by its slick folds, “I want to taste you on my tongue.” He confessed, his voice low, choked by rampant desire, “I want to feel you clench around it. . .”   
“Clark, no. . .” She fought the want, her voice, not nearly as commanding as she had wished. Why couldn't he just finish it? She didn't want this foreplay to stretch on any longer. . . She wanted him to fuck her and leave her alone. . . Or did she? At the same moment, she wished he would stay in her bed all night long, lavish her with pleasure he was so willing to give. . . Yes, he did love her, and he did want to pleasure her in exactly the way her thoughts were traveling. . . . But, did she want to let him?   
He turned her over on her back, sliding eagerly between her legs. He took her hips in his palms, and pulled her towards him. Her legs fell over his broad shoulders. She gripped the sheets, turning her head away from the vision of him using his mouth to pleasure her. She couldn't watch. . .Not unless she wanted to be pulled even further into his distorted fantasy.   
A hot breath blew over her center, heightening the pleasure. She held her eyes shut although every fiber in her wanted to look up. Moments later, she felt his lips brush over her center. He drew in a deep breath, taking in the scent of her arousal. He gave a satisfied grunt, his mouth drawing closer. He parted his lips, licking her with bold strokes of his tongue. She bit down so hard on her lower lip, she thought she tasted blood, but she refused to let the responses flow so freely from her throat. It felt so amazing she wanted to give in but she held back. He seemed to have nothing in the way of responsibility, but she knew how to keep her priorities lined up. She had to remain just enough loyal to him until she could escape. One wrong move and. . . .  
“Oh my God!” The cry burst from her throat without her summoning the words. He had plunged his tongue into her, drawing a violent jerk from her body, and the cry from her mouth, involuntarily admitting to him how much she really was enjoying this. She clamped her jaw shut, trapping any further cries in her throat. Emboldened by her response, he cradled her closer, his tongue caressing, tasting, pleasuring her until her body writhed, taut with adrenaline, slick with perspiration. She squeezed her eyes shut, reaching down to take thick handfuls of his hair in her grip. She curled her fingers around the soft, dark strands of hair, her arms straining to pull his mouth away from her.   
His mouth paused, and he lifted his eyes to look at her, “I know you want this, Tess. . . Why are you fighting me?”  
She breathed hard, her chest rising and falling sharply as she tried to ignore the pleasure humming deep in her core, “Please. . .” She whispered, without looking at him, “Please, stop. . .”  
He lifted a fingertips to stroke slick, tortured flesh between her legs. She twitched, twisting away from him, “I don't think that's what you really want.” He murmured, letting her legs down from his shoulders. She tried to close her legs, but he swiftly moved between them, his body blurring for a split second with the rapid motion. He caught her wrists in his hands, pinning them to the bed. He gazed down at her, and she was surprised to see that he didn't look upset that she continued to reject him. His eyes were softer now, and she realized she was seeing what the other Tess saw when he looked at her. No matter how depraved, how ruthless, or evil this otherworldly version of Clark was, he still loved her. His dark heart hid what should be at the core of every person – the love of some else, so strong that he would do anything for her. It was the only light in his black soul. She had to use that. She had to give him what he wanted if she intended on getting out of this situation alive. She had known that before, but this was more. She had to give him everything. . . . Everything.   
She sighed in defeat, looking up at him with wide eyes. This time, when he kissed her, she complied, letting his mouth plunder hers with great passion. His tongue stroked her palate, a soft groan vibrating in his throat. She opened her mouth wider, offering her own tongue. He drew it into his mouth, his fingertips sliding down her arms. They tickled the soft flesh on the inside of her arms, but she remained still, unmoving beneath him. He brushed the backs of his fingers over the sides of her breasts for several arousing seconds before he cupped both in his big hands, his thumbs dropping to her nipples. He stroked at them until the flesh hardened, rising almost eagerly to his touch, aching with desire.   
Tess struggled to breath as his mouth left hers and dipped down to one pebbled nipple. He teased it with his tongue, sucked softly for a moment, before moving to the other. It received the same treatment, leaving desire burning even hotter.   
Clark kissed her throat as he took her hips in his hands and brought her hips to his. She felt the weight of his erect manhood between her legs moments before he shifted forward, piercing her. A gasp of air flew from her lungs as the thick length of his cock filled her. She blinked rapidly, striving to breath properly. His grunt of satisfaction joined her gasp, his fingers squeezing her waist tightly. His breath heated her throat, as he managed to speak, “In my world, you enjoy making me wait,” He nipped at her wildly beating pulse, “but it is has been much too long.”   
Tess lay immobile beneath him, in a sort of relieved, yet terrified shock. Relieved that this ordeal was nearly over. Terrified of what kind of ferocious passion his desire might unleash upon her. She had seen his strength. . . He could crush her in one fell blow. . . Thrust, actually. . . Either way, this wasn't going to be as much fun for her as it would be for him. Nothing could hurt him – she had already so eloquently proven this point for him earlier in their encounter.   
“Well,” Her chuckle was strangled, “go easy on me.” She lifted a hand and combed her fingers through the thick, dark hair at the back of his head, “Its been awhile for me too.”   
“Mmm, I'll remember that.” He nuzzled her throat, his tone of voice implying just the opposite.   
She had no more time to prep herself. He pulled back, and for a single moment she was free of the biggest man she had ever gone to bed with. Seconds later, he drove back in, the ecstasy already written all over his face. Maybe it would be over soon. . .   
Unfortunately, Clark Luthor was man endowed with an ego the size of their good state Kansas. He would not be done with her in any short period of time. He prided himself in his accomplishments – especially those feats performed in bed – and she was no exception. For now, he could care less if she wasn't his Tess. All that mattered was that she looked, smelled, and felt like his Tess. As long as she complied, she was as good as her alternate-world double.   
Clark shifted into what he seemed to deem a better position. He sat up, grabbing her around the ankles, gazing down on her with satisfaction and triumph on his perpetually arrogant features. Her palms slapped the mattress, her fingers curling around sections of the sheets. She clung to the silky material, feeling control slipping from her fingers with each passing second. This new position took away even more of her power than before. In missionary, she could possibly gain the advantage and put him on his back. . . Like this, the most she could do was move her hips against him, and even that was difficult.   
His chest and face framed by her upright legs, he began to thrust into her, his gaze like burning embers, cutting through her. She turned her face away from his eyes, feeling completely exposed to him. Revealed to be the vulnerable person she really was. What was worse, she couldn't squelch the first flutters of pleasure low in her stomach. She couldn't stop her body from reacting to this merciless yet desirable man who would just as easily kill her as he would pleasure her. She had chosen to allow the latter, but how long before she upset him, and the tables were turned?   
Clark's fingers squeezed her calves, his hips moving smoothly, effortlessly against hers. Between them, a maelstrom of pleasure raged, fighting its way to the surface, Tess straining to calm the storm, Clark driving towards its violent end. He impaled her again and again, but to her surprise, didn't slam into her hard enough hurt her each time. Instead, she was stunned to find him doing an exceptional job of touching her in all the right places. How many men did she know that could live up to her standards? She was always raising the bar despite the fact that it was unfair. . . Only a few had ever left an undying impression. Clark Luthor was about to surpass them all.   
Tess was so dazed by the discovery, that her plan to get him in a more subservient position were lost when he paused. He wasn't still for long. Quick as lightning, she turned her onto her hands and knees. She had never been moved so fast in her life. It was the strangest feeling. In literally one second, she was staring at the sheets instead of the ceiling. His hands slid beneath her, one circling her throat, the other gripping her hip. His mouth and nose pressed to her disheveled hair, he began to pump into her from behind, holding her off the mattress so that he could move her any way he desired. She didn't have to do anything but sit in his arms and hold on. His superhuman strength and stamina did the rest, continuing with the same precision as before.   
Tess's head turned to the side, and she saw their reflection in the full-length mirror across the room. Her face was flushed pink, her eyes wide. Her face was strained with building pleasure, her body slick and trembling in the cradle of his arms. She was more interested in his reflection than her own. Despite everything she knew about him, she couldn't deny that his physique was beautiful, flawless, all muscle and toned flesh. She watched the repetitive motion of his hips, tight against her, the muscles of his arms and legs bulging with the exertion. Her eyes followed the curve of his spine down to his butt.   
The other Tess was lucky.   
Clark's voice, rough in her ear, drew her back to the reality of the moment. She was not lucky, “Now tell me you're not enjoying this.”   
She couldn't answer. Her only reply was her uneven, rapid breathing. A tremble passed through her body, sending fresh heat to her center. She was slick and tight around him; the nearing climax caused her muscles to squeeze him even tighter. He grunted into her ear, and for the first time she felt tremors of exertion and pleasure run through him. He held her closer to him, grinding his hips against her. His cock sank deeply, and she moaned aloud, feeling the the strain of her flesh against the thickness of him. It was a deep ache – one she knew would hurt more in the morning – but for now it only caused the pleasure to swell within her. Her body throbbed with each deep thrust, the shudders growing, the need making her head swim.   
She didn't even realize she was moaning until she heard his voice urging her, “That's my girl. . .Tell me you like it. . .”   
Her body arched in in his embrace, the moan lengthening, against her wishes.   
Its not your fault, Tess! She managed to defy the guilt through her pleasure-clouded mind. He did this. . .He tricked you. . .  
It didn't matter whose fault it was in the next several moments. It didn't matter whether she had intended to sleep with him or not when she felt her body explode in a series of violent tremors that caused the pleasure to tear through her. It didn't matter if he could kill her tomorrow when her world shattered, opening into a whole knew side of reality, a place where her stability was shaken to shambles by the completion of this forbidden act. . . .All that mattered was that it was over. He had finally brought the torture to an end, and she was left feeling frustratingly satisfied.   
By the time her body ceased its convulsions, he was lying her down on the mattress, his mouth leaving behind one last kiss on her shoulder, “You don't disappoint, my darling.” He said, rising from the bed. Her heavy breathing warmed the comforter, her eyes wide.   
She had done it. She had let him do it. She had let it finish.   
And now, he was going to get up and leave as if the whole thing hadn't tired him one bit.   
“Clark, where are you going?” She sat up, afraid of what he planned to do with the additional euphoria.   
“Where are we going, you mean?” He chuckled, sliding into his Armani pants.   
She frowned, pushing herself up onto her elbows. She felt immediate discomfort deep inside her. God, what had she done?   
“There is no rest for the wicked, Tess.” He clicked his tongue, putting his shirt on. He left the front hanging open as he walked back to the bed. He took her face in his hand, brushing strands of hair away from her eyes, “You know as well as I do that I have a plan. All that's left to do is execute it.” His hand left her face and he took her by the arm. He lifted her from the bed and set her on her feet, “Get dressed. We have work to do.” His mouth tipped in a delighted smile. He planted a quick kiss on her mouth and left the room, his sports jacket slung carelessly over his shoulder.   
She watched in despair as the door shut behind him, as if in a final note of affirmation.   
He was going to accomplish his purpose, and she had just let him get one step closer.   
What have I done?   
Tess sank to the edge of the bed, a bitter taste haunting the back of her throat. She felt sick.   
I never wanted this. I never wanted to be one of them. . . .Now I'm just as bad as bad as the rest of them. A Luthor. 

~the end~


End file.
